


Mine

by neverlandlumos



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Sexy Times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-01
Updated: 2013-06-01
Packaged: 2017-12-13 15:17:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/825804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverlandlumos/pseuds/neverlandlumos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Although they've never established their relationship, Thorin is faced with jealousy he's never felt before when he sees Dwalin occupied by another Dwarf, and true to his determined nature, makes sure Dwalin knows he is <em>Thorin's.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Mine

**Author's Note:**

> neverlandlost.tumblr.com

The night party is a pleasant celebration for Gloin’s birthday. Being a relative of the King, the event is swarming with all kinds of people, royalty and commoners alike. Ale is plentiful, the food is filling and hearty and the constant pub and tavern songs ring through the air, sung terribly off-key lacking all sobriety.

Thorin has come with his siblings, Frerin and Dis. Frerin is off wooing some lass he has been courting for several months now, and much to Thorin’s surprise, is making some leeway and Thror speaks of marriage despite Frerin still being quite young. Dis, hotheaded like her eldest brother, scoffs at any attempts young lads make in attempt to compliment her. Thorin measures them as unworthy of her attention, anyhow, as any older brother should.

He says hello to Oin and Bombur, who are already drunk and Bombur appears to be eating what seems to be the entire platter to himself. He looks for the familiar mohawked head amongst the crowd but does not catch sight of Dwalin.

Balin greets him with a smile, as he always does, offering some conversation and informing him that Dwalin is present this evening and has spent a majority of the night with a girl.

A _girl. Some_ girl.

He receives an odd look from Balin when he bites out a succinct response and quickly smoothes it over with a forced shrug, trying to feign nonchalance. It is quite the opposite though: jealousy and envy snap like a piece of wood in his gut.

Fumbles in the dark, exploratory hands and rushed, misunderstood kisses present themselves to Thorin’s mind’s eye. He feels _odd_ , he wouldn’t say betrayed, he is not that dramatic, but the images of Dwalin kissing and embracing someone else, girl or not, sends a real shiver of misplaced disgust and honest _sadness_ down his spine.

He wants Dwalin, that much is evident. Thorin straightens his shoulders.

He will make Dwalin _his._

Finding him is really not all that difficult, the mohawk gives him away when out of a crowd, paired with his height and bulk. Dwalin and _the girl_ are standing near one of the many garden beds that surround the smaller taverns, to the outskirts of the party.

The young dwarf lass presses a kiss to Dwalin’s lips smoothly, and Thorin’s jealousy reaches entirely new levels he can barely comprehend. Dwalin does not respond per say, nor he does not reject her advances. Thorin narrows his eyes. She rests a hand on Dwalin’s left bicep, curling her fingers around the muscle to draw him closer, lips becoming more greedy as she plasters her front against Dwalin.

Thorin figures, he should step in, _intervene_ to stop any unwanted attention, on Dwalin’s behalf or his own, he does not care.

“There you are,” Thorin calls by way of greeting. The girl pulls back at the interruption and hastens herself into a polite courtesy upon recognising him.

“My Lord,” she acknowledges sweetly, releasing her petticoats and offering a timid smile. A pretty girl, to be fair, face framed with curly brown hair and stubble adorning her cheeks. “What an honour you give us by coming tonight.”

She means well, he knows this, but Thorin still bites back a snide remark, settling for a dip of the head in thanks.

“Oh!” She says suddenly, turning to Dwalin with gusto, “you are his guard, are you not? Such an honour.”

Dwalin scoffs. “Aye, I am.”

Thorin narrows his eyes at the indifference in his tone. Dwalin looks at him with an unreadable expression.

“I would _love_ to work for the royal family, Dis is so pretty, as are her clothes,” she gushes, though possibly out of nervousness. Thorin shows his gratitude by giving her a tight smile. 

After a long moment of silence, she seems to realise an issue looming between Dwalin and Thorin, and with a gentle touch of her palm to Dwalin’s chest, returns to the party.

He is angry, but at what he does not know, Dwalin is free to do as he pleases.

“Who is that?” He asks, jaw tensing and relaxing as he tries to quell his temper.

“Dalnia, I believe. You’ve met her before.” Indeed, Thorin has. He paid no real attention to her, he meets many women and men everyday, and she did not seem all that special when they first met. Now, she is something of an arch nemesis and Thorin can barely believe his own thoughts.

“Are you trying to make me jealous?” Thorin asks stiffly. “Dwalin?”

Dwalin sits on one of the logs that bracket the gardens and peers up at him in question. “What? Is this making you jealous? Me, kissing someone else?” Dwalin’s voice is bemused, even surprised and Thorin will not tolerate it in the slightest.

“As a matter of fact, _yes_ ,” he admits, annoyed. “I did not and do not like it.”

Dwalin now appears smug. “Why?”

Thorin fiddles with his beard ornament in hopes to dodge the question.

“You could have any maiden you please, _prince_ ,” Dwalin says, just shy of condescending. “What is the problem, aye?”

“Dwalin,” Thorin says testily. “I do not want some fucking maiden.”

Dwalin rubs a hand over his eyes.

“I want you all to _myself_ ,” Thorin continues, figures blunt honesty is the way to approach this enlightening conversation, and flushes at his own words. “I will not share you with others.”

“A little bit… possessive, don’t you think?”

He remains silent, stone-faced though he’s certain he is blushing up to his hairline.

“Thorin,” Dwalin says impatiently, gesturing around them with open arms. “Where are you going with this? We’re getting past flirts.”

“Haven’t I made it as plain as day, Dwalin?” Thorin snaps unreasonably, beginning to feel flustered at the pressure to talk about his feelings, especially when Dwalin is showing no real leeway with his own. “… you don’t even know her!”

“I would’ve known her a lot better had you not interrupted,” Dwalin states, flaring Thorin’s anger like poking a caged beast.

“Are you not listening to a word I am saying to you?” Thorin fairly bellows, drawing the attention of several other couples he hadn’t even noticed who were busy kissing behind the trees and garden beds. Dwalin pays them no heed, just stares at Thorin with confusion mixed with annoyance.

“Tell me exactly how you feel and maybe this conversation can proceed, Thorin,” Dwalin snaps back, rising to a stand. He stands still for too long, words trapped in his throat. Dwalin rolls his eyes and begins to walk away and Thorin panics, feeling the chance slip between his fingers.

“I love you!”

Dwalin stops, and whips around quickly and abruptly. Flustered, he does not look at Dwalin’s face even as Dwalin approaches him, cupping a tattooed hand to his cheek. “Thorin,” Dwalin murmurs, “look at me.”

He does, despite his own embarrassment. Dwalin looks at him with an air of wonder, the beginnings of a smile quirk at his lips. He clenches his hands at his sides for something to do, but decides to wrap his arms hesitantly around Dwalin’s waist and steps closer. Dwalin grins and says simply, “I love you.”

To be fair, Thorin’s never been a romantic or anything remotely similar but he’s certain his heart beats louder, faster and more erratically just by _hearing_ the words. He looks up at Dwalin underneath his lashes, shy all of a sudden, and tightens his arms when Dwalin drags him even closer. They’ve kissed before, hell, they’ve fucked before, but it’s nothing like this. He feels like an invisible weight has been lifted off of his shoulders, and breaths a sigh of relief despite the situation, breath forced out harshly through his nose, face smushed in Dwalin’s neck.

Dwalin chuckles deep in his throat, Thorin sighs at the sound and feels it reverberate through his chest and into his own.

“Don’t make it obvious,” Dwalin begins, and Thorin pulls away quickly, stung. Dwalin grapples for his hips and draws him close again with an annoyed tut, “I didn’t mean this, Thorin. I mean, don’t make it obvious, but I’m pretty sure Nori and Bofur are having sex in the tree behind us.”

“Certainly puts a damper on the mood,” Thorin comments dryly, peering over his shoulder. Dwalin laughs loudly, and begins to walk back to the kingdom.

“Might be a sign to head back, then,” Dwalin suggests, looping an arm around his waist. Thorin lets himself be lead away from the party.

 

~

 

Having sex with Dwalin wasn’t particularly new to Thorin. They’ve done it before, and enjoyed it immensely. Now, knowing his deepest affections for Dwalin are reciprocated, he feels more nervous about having sex than what he did before he was a virgin. He feels small in his own skin, self conscious, annoyingly awkward.

Dwalin kisses him, and the feelings begin to fade. His face is cupped in his large palms, tilting his head upward. He pushes Dwalin so his knees hit the bed, crawling on top and pinning his hands aside his head.

"Thorin, what - "

He reaches up and presses two fingers against Dwalin’s bottom lip.

“Just let me, Dwalin,” he whispers, Dwalin frowns. Thorin kisses him quickly, and chuckles against his mouth, “Oh no, I don’t mean _that_. Just let me touch you.”

He runs his hands down the broad expanse of Dwalin’s chest, fingers dripping and caressing over the taut muscles. He presses open mouthed kisses down the sternum, stopping to suckle lightly at his nipples, biting down softly when Dwalin’s back arches against his mouth, hand fluttering at the base of Thorin’s neck.

Thorin’s mouth waters at the sight. He’s never seen Dwalin from this angle, not really, and definitely not in this state. His lover is beautifully aroused, cheeks flushed, small, breathy pants slipping between his lips. He kisses Dwalin eagerly, drawing his tongue into his mouth and sucking on it, curling his tongue around Dwalin’s, and then drawing away.

He shifts down the mattress, hands splaying over his ribs, kneading the muscles of his sides. Thorin smirks when Dwalin exhales shakily, a strange sound, and realises he’s actually tickling Dwalin. He changes methods, running the backs of his fingers and hands more deliberately over the sensitive skin. Dwalin’s torso twitches and turns away from his grip, a deep, rumbling bout of laughter echoing loudly in the room. Thorin smiles and presses a kiss to his abdomen.

“Stop it,” Dwalin chuckles, though it sounds pained when Thorin rubs his fingertips over newly formed gooseflesh. “Don’t tickle me!”

“Alright, alright,” Thorin concedes, running his thumbs over the well formed V above his cock. Dwalin’s breath hitches, and shifts against the mattress. Thorin licks his lip as Dwalin grows more aroused, no longer distracted by Thorin’s bout of tickling. He’s more than happy to wrap his mouth around Dwalin and _just make him come,_ but he remains determined to worship Dwalin’s body with the same tenderness that he experiences.

His tongue follows the cut of Dwalin’s abs, quickly dipping into his navel, leaving a thin sheen of spit in its wake. Thorin reaches behind himself, gently grasping Dwalin’s calf and pushing it forward so his leg bends. Dwalin frowns at the unexpected contact, lifting his head off the pillow to watch him more carefully. He groans softly when Thorin’s lip hits the tender skin of his inner thigh.

There’s more tattoos here, delicately writ runes. Thorin presses a wet kiss to the inked flesh of his own name and stills for a moment, simply resting his cheek against it with content. They’d gotten matching tattoos, out of friendship when they were first allowed. Now, the tattoo has far more meaning. Dwalin rubs a tender hand over the crown of his skull, blunt fingernails scraping delightfully over his scalp. Blood rushes in his ears at the small pleasure of it.

Dwalin’s cock fills at the teasing, blood staining the head and tip a slight pink. Thorin cups a hand around it, resting his cock against the sturdy muscles of his stomach. Dwalin’s hips buck at the touch, a soft moan at the unexpected friction. Thorin smirks and runs his thumbs over the delicate skin on either side. His hair drapes around his face, annoyingly, and flips his head back so the tresses fall down his back.

“Hmm,” Dwalin hums.

Thorin smiles up at him, distracted. “What?”

Dwalin raises himself up onto his elbows and kisses him deeply. Thorin breathes heavily against his mouth, slipping his tongue inside and groaning when it is caught gently between Dwalin’s teeth. His breath hitches as Dwalin sucks on his bottom lip.

“You look gorgeous like that,” Dwalin says, tying his hair at the base of his neck with a leather band originally around his wrist. 

“Thank you,” Thorin says, surprised by the compliment. He pushes Dwalin back down with a strong hand against his chest. “So do you.”

Dwalin laughs, disbelieving. “I doubt that. I’m all… _sweaty_.”

“So? I think you look gorgeous,” Thorin marvels when Dwalin drapes an arm over his face, hiding a blush. “Dwalin?” He asks, uncertain.

“Whatever you say, Thorin,” Dwalin retorts with finality. Thorin is annoyed by this. He sucks a kiss to the cap of Dwalin’s broad shoulder, moving up to his neck and collarbone. Dwalin bucks against him.

Thorin bends, and in a smooth move, drags Dwalin’s cock into his mouth, relaxing his throat muscles around the thick girth. Dwalin hisses between gritted teeth, hips stuttering up. He pulls back so the tip rests against his tongue and presses it against the slit. Dwalin’s thighs tighten around his head. 

“Fuck,” he manages, “ _Thorin_.” 

He hums in his throat, gripping the base with a steady hand, forcing his other under him and to rest on the small of Dwalin’s back. He uses his hand to guide Dwalin’s hips upward and into his mouth. Dwalin groans at the permission, thrusting shallowly, an obscene groan rips its way out of his throat when his cock slides deep, hitting the back of Thorin’s throat.

“Thorin,” Dwalin grits out, cupping a hand under his chin, guiding him off. “Slow down, I’ll finish too quickly.” He pulls him up and kisses him.

“I love you,” Thorin murmurs against his lips, “so much.”

As Dwalin murmurs his reciprocation, he settles atop his lap, sighing at the feel of skin against skin. With spit slick fingers, Thorin reaches behind himself quickly to ease the penetration. 

It’s hasty, and rushed, but he doesn’t want to waste anymore time. Dwalin reaches up and helps position himself properly. He grunts when the head of Dwalin’s cock slides inside, and braces himself against Dwalin’s chest to stop him toppling forward as he fills him up.

“ _Shit,_ ” he curses, “feels so good.”

Dwalin throws his head back, mouth dropped open, “ _Thorin,”_ he moans, thighs trembling under Thorin. He smiles down at him, reaching up and cupping Dwalin’s face, fingers brushing over his beard, over the swell of his lip. Dwalin raises his head for a kiss.

The rhythm they set nudges the sweeter spots inside perfectly, and Thorin curses to himself, this is meant to be about Dwalin, for Dwalin and instead, he is a hair’s breadth away from coming and spoiling the entire evening. He’s not too disappointed, though, Dwalin’s neck is bared, teeth gritted behind swollen lips. He’s close.

“Dwalin,” he manages, licking a wet stripe up his neck. Dwalin’s fingers dig into his hips, the echo of skin slapping skin impossibly loud in the bedroom. His thrusts become harder, harsher, and Thorin’s self control slowly begins to slip away.

“ _Please,_ ” Thorin chokes out, and Dwalin flips them, pinning his legs to his chest without interrupting their rhythm, hand rubbing at the head of his cock, and embarrassingly manages two, three, four thrusts before coming over his stomach, stripes of stickiness dripping from Dwalin’s fingers. 

“Oh fuck, _fuck_ ,” Dwalin moans, wrapping his arms around Thorin’s midsection and pulling him up so they’re chest to chest. He kisses Dwalin, messily, hungrily, clenching around him and forcing him over the edge. Dwalin bites his lip and slides his tongue alongside his with the same vigour as his hips, hips stuttering as he comes inside Thorin, clutching his back and shoulders.

~

“I hope you enjoyed your stint with that girl, because it’s never happening again,” Thorin states the next morning over breakfast.

Dwalin raises an eyebrow, then pretends to be disappointed, saying, “What? No other parties allowed?”

Thorin narrows his eyes, though a small smile find its way to his lips. 

Dwalin laughs, and continues eating but Thorin’s gaze runs all over him. The scar that runs over his right eye and eyebrow, the rumpled mohawk riddled with bed-hair, the slant of his nose, the swell of his lips.

He’s absolutely gorgeous, and he’s all _Thorin’s._


End file.
